


Beauty and the Beast:  A Fairy Tale

by veronamay



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-28
Updated: 2005-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 05:59:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronamay/pseuds/veronamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A retelling of the classic fairy tale.  Not crackfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beauty and the Beast:  A Fairy Tale

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://la-joconde.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://la-joconde.livejournal.com/)**la_joconde** banned me from writing Harry/Flobberworm; this is what I decided on instead. Aren't we all glad? Unbeta'd.

Once upon a time there was a wealthy merchant named Ian who lived in a fine house in the city with his three lovely sons. They were much admired in society and had everything they could ever want, thanks to the hard work of their doting father.

Orlando was the eldest, a fine tall figure with raven-black curls and dark laughing eyes. He was very beautiful and very vain, and could not pass a looking glass but he would look into it to gaze upon his own perfection. None were so beautiful or lissom as he, and so he scorned all those ladies who would sue for his hand, deeming them unworthy.

Elijah was the youngest, a slight pampered lad with porcelain skin and large eyes of a deep and clear blue for whom maidens sighed in envy. But Elijah was proud and would have none of them; he was determined to wed with a princess even wealthier than he and so win himself a high title and a life of luxury.

Of the merchant's three sons, Dominic was the least beautiful, being possessed of a somewhat misshapen nose and wayward blond hair that would not do as he bid, but went in all directions. He had long-fingered, graceful hands and eyes of a smoky changeable hue and the sweetest of all young men's smiles, but these attributes went unremarked next to the beauty of his brothers. But Dominic was kind and honest and treated all he knew with warmth and respect. His brothers laughed at him and called him Beauty, mocking him for his plainness, but even this he bore with uncommon good humour and grace.

Ian the merchant, a tall man lean of limb and with a stately bearing, was fond of all his sons and sought always to ensure their comfort and happiness in life. This meant he would often be called to travel about the land to talk to his agents and ensure the safe dispersal of his goods. He always returned with many presents for his sons, though Dominic neither needed nor asked for any.

One such trip as this Ian made on a fine spring morning, bidding his sons farewell with a light heart, for he had many ships and wagons due to arrive and much profit to gain from the goods therein. But alas, disaster struck: before he reached his first destination, he received word that all his ships had been sunk by storms or pirates and were lost; his wagons beset by highwaymen and robbed of all his goods. He was left destitute but for his fine house and furnishings and even these were forfeit, for he must pay his creditors, and he was an honourable man. So Ian returned home and broke the sad news to his sons, that they would have to leave their stately mansion and retire to a cottage in the country, to live cheaply and simply for the rest of their lives – unless they each could marry well and thus rebuild their fortunes.

Dominic was grieved at his father's loss, for the new lines of age and sorrow it put about Ian's face. He resolved to be cheerful and accepting of their new status, "for indeed," he thought, "it will not be so very different for me. I can learn to clean and mend and cook. It will not be bad to be useful."

Elijah and Orlando horrified at the news. They immediately began to seek advantageous marriages to avoid living in poverty. But they found their many admirers melted away when the news of their failed finances escaped, and by the time Ian had arranged for their house to be sold and their few remaining possessions to be sent to their new home, both Elijah and Orlando were sulking over their sudden lack of appeal.

"Are we not handsome and graceful in all things?" they asked each other. "Would we not lend honour and beauty to the noblest of houses? How can it be that our wealth is the only thing that held so many women at our feet?" But no-one remained to tell them but Dominic, and he could not be so cruel as to speak the truth.

And so Ian and his sons removed to a modest cottage in the country, with no servants to attend them or see to their comfort. It was difficult for Dominic to accustom himself to work at first, but he took to it with a good will and soon had mastered many tasks and could run their small household smoothly. His brothers did not help but lounged about all day, bemoaning their losses and plotting ways to rejuvenate their own fortunes. Ian spent less time than ever at home, riding about the country on the single nag they retained, trying to gather up the broken strands of his business.

So things continued for some time. Then one day Ian received word of a single ship which had not been caught in a storm nor ravaged by pirates, and had come into port with a full hold of goods. The profit was not enough to rebuild their wealth, yet it would keep them in their present state for many a year if they were careful. He made immediate arrangements to travel back to the city and left at sunrise two days later, regretfully bidding farewell to his family.

"I shall bring you each a present," he said, and bade them all make of him a request.

"I want bolts of the finest silks and velvets you can find, in all the colours of the rainbow," said Orlando, "though they will be but a pale shadow of my beauty."

"Bring me a chest full each of gold and gems," said Elijah. "I will make such jewellery as to befit a king, and so gain the interest of a princess of wealth."

Dominic was silent, hoping his father would have good luck on his journey. Ian sought his face and held it between his hands, studying the downcast eyes of his middle son.

"Will you ask for nothing, Dominic?" he asked kindly. Elijah and Orlando tittered shrilly at his words.

"Yes, ask for riches, Beauty!" they cried, "for you will need much to entice any woman to marry you. Your plain face will not convince them alone, that is certain."

Dominic merely blushed and shook his head, for he did not wish to burden his father with more requests. His brothers had already demanded far more than they could afford.

"Come now, Dominic," Ian said. "Ask me for one thing at least, for I would not have you go empty-handed beside your brothers."

"I wish only for your safe and quick return, Father," Dominic insisted. "I need nothing else to ensure my happiness."

Ian shook his head and smiled and Dominic, seeing that his father's will was firm, sighed in defeat.

"Bring me a single red rose, Father, if you will," he said. "Though I will be much happier to see your smiling face when you proffer it."

"Done!" Ian cried, and then embraced his sons and was off. Elijah and Orlando turned on Dominic in scorn.

"Fool!" Orlando jeered. "What use is it to ask for a flower, when you could have anything you've ever dreamed of?"

"You will never gain a fortune at this rate, Beauty," Elijah said, and his eyes were full of contempt. "You had better stay with Father when we are married, so he will have someone to serve him when he grows older."

"Yes," Orlando agreed. "It's not likely you'll marry in any case, and we will have no time to spare when we have riches and families of our own."

Off they went to amuse themselves, while Dominic watched his father depart until the early morning fog hid his figure from sight.

* * *

Ian travelled quickly, eager to regain even a little of his former wealth and bring smiles back to his sons' handsome faces. But his luck fell further, for when he arrived at the docks he learned that much of his profit had been taken in taxes and there was little left, certainly not enough to keep their household for any length of time. His heart weighed heavy in his breast, for he could not afford even a single bolt of fabric nor more than a paste jewel, and the thought of the disappointment of his children was more than he could bear.

To make matters worse, Ian was caught in a storm on his return journey and lost his way in a dark wood. He battled the elements to the point of exhaustion but to no avail; he was utterly lost. The rain lashed and the wind blew, chilling him to the bone as darkness fell. He turned this way and that but could not find his bearings, and the poor nag he rode quickly came to the end of its strength.

Finally the horse stumbled into a clearing of sorts, and nearly headlong into a high stone wall. Following it blindly they came to a gate of imposing height, of black iron with much scrollwork upon it. Ian thought only of a little shelter from the storm, supposing this to be an abandoned house or castle. He turned the horse through the gate and rode up an overgrown path, marvelling at lavish gardens and lawns run wild beyond the wall. The grounds belonged to a grand castle, cold and forbidding yet with a single warm square of light shining from a ground floor window. Ian fixed his eyes on it and encouraged the horse onward.

The light led him to a doorway into a sheltered hall, where he stabled the horse as well as could be and then ventured into the house itself. The interior, though deserted, was far warmer than the coldness outside and Ian sighed in pleasure and relief. He followed the light down a long passageway and into a room lit with many candles and a roaring fire. Ian stripped off his wet outer clothing and spread it on the floor to dry.

A large comfortable chair was set by the hearth with a table at its side, laden with a plate of food. Ian fell upon the meal without delay, for he had not eaten all that day. When he was done he looked around for his host to appear, but when no-one arrived he said, "Thank you," to the empty air and settled back in his chair. Before he knew it he was asleep while the storm continued to rage outside.

In the morning he awoke with a start, finding himself in a bed of soft linen. He looked about, remembering all that had happened the previous day. Someone had carried him into this room while he slept and had taken very good care of him. His clothes were neatly folded and rested on the end of the bed, and another plate newly filled with breakfast lay on the table next to his head. Ian ate heartily for the second time and again thanked his invisible host as he set the plate aside.

"It is time to go," he thought. "I must return to my sons. They will comfort me in my despair." Dominic's face flickered into his mind and he smiled fondly, dressing quickly and finding his way outside. His horse nickered to see him, appearing well-rested and fed; a bucket of oats sat on the stone floor, where he had been able to offer only a few wisps of hay. Ian sent a prayer of thanks on behalf of his benefactor and mounted his horse to go.

On his way out through the overgrown gardens, he noticed a wild climbing rose growing over a trellis nearby. Remembering his promise to Dominic, Ian stopped and plucked a single half-open bud, declaring that at least one of his sons should not go empty-handed after all. As soon as the rose left the stem, however, a roar of such fury sounded throughout the castle that he quivered in fear, and his horse reared and threw him to the ground.

"How dare you steal from me after all my kindnesses?" a mighty voice thundered. "How dare you take all that I have given and then dare to grasp for more? I will kill you for this insult! Thief!"

Ian looked up and saw a hideous being coming towards him, a thing man-shaped but wrapped in filthy furs and skins and with a horrible metal mask covering its face. He cowered on the ground in fear as the master of the castle stood over him.

"I beg pardon!" Ian cried. "I did not mean to steal from you. I meant only to take home a rose for my son."

"Thief!" cried the monster again. "Explain yourself."

Ian quickly ran through the tale of his woes, ending with Dominic's request to bring him a rose for want of anything else. The monster listened carefully to the story and viewed Ian from head to foot when he was finished.

"You do not seem an evil man," it said. "And yet I have sworn to kill any who steal from me, regardless of their reason. But I will take pity on you, merchant. I will not kill you if one of your sons will come here and live in this castle as a hostage for your life."

Ian was grieved at this bargain, but he did not want to die without seeing his sons one last time. He agreed to go home and see which of his sons would come, begging to take the rose along for Dominic. The monster allowed this and demanded to see him back in three days' time, with or without a hostage.

"Whoever comes shall be treated as a prince," it promised. "I will not harm him and will do all that I can to ensure he is comfortable and happy. But if no-one comes and you do not return, I will hunt you and your family to the ends of the earth and make sure you all suffer the worst of agonies before you die. This I promise you, merchant. Now go, and be quick to return."

* * *

Ian's reunion with his sons was bittersweet, for he had to tell them of the bargain he had made with the monster in the castle. Orlando and Elijah were appalled that he had come back empty-handed and listened to naught else of his tale, pouting at their lack of gifts. Dominic thanked his father for the rose with great sorrow, "for," he said, "I would never have asked for it had I known this would be the result. I think I should go to the monster, Father, to atone for the trouble I have caused you."

Ian protested his decision, but Dominic held firm. He would not see his father killed for his sake if he could prevent it, and to live in such a place did not seem so very ill in comparison. Perhaps the monster would mellow with time and allow him to return to his family.

His brothers were pleased to see him go, for they were weary of his neverending good spirits and pleasant nature. "Go and be cheerful for the monster!" they cried. "And send back gold and gifts if he gives you any, for we will need a servant when you are gone." And that was all the farewell he received from them.

Ian helped Dominic pack with a heavy heart, wishing there was some alternative. Dominic begged his father not to worry, for he was sure things would turn out all right in the end.

"This monster seemed like an honourable creature, did it not?" he asked. And when Ian nodded, he said, "Well, then. I will go and live there for a time and we will see what transpires. It is worth much to me to see you alive and well, Father. Let us speak no more about it, for we must leave if we are to arrive in time."

They travelled swiftly back into the wood and came unerringly to the castle. Dominic followed his father through the garden, looking around him with an interested gaze. The grounds were beautiful if untended, full of flowers and greenery that needed only a tending hand. The house was empty but clean and very grand, full of rich furniture such as Dominic had never seen. And all this was to be his home! He felt himself blessed, regardless of the circumstances.

Then out of a darkened archway came the figure of the monster, as filthy and horrid as Ian had described. Dominic flinched at first to see it, but steeled himself to the inevitable. The monster greeted Ian politely enough, then turned its metal gaze on Dominic and looked at him for a very long time.

"You are here for your father's sake?" it said at last, and Dominic nodded. "Good. You have nothing to fear if you behave yourself and do not anger me. Have you anything to say?"

"Y-yes, sir," Dominic said quietly. "What should I call you?"

The monster was silent for a moment. Dominic felt its eyes on him again and cast his own gaze downward.

"I have no name," it replied. "If you must call me something, 'Beast' will do."

"Thank you, Beast," Dominic said.

"You are welcome. Now go with your father into the house, to the chamber he first came to when he stayed here. There are two chests in the room full of riches. Take what you want as payment for your good conduct and bid it be gone where you will; I will see that it reaches its destination. Then your father must go back to his cottage."

So saying, the monster turned and went away into the gardens. Dominic followed his father with a heavy heart into the house. Indeed there were two such chests full of gold and linen and other worldly goods as the monster described, everything Orlando and Elijah had demanded and more. Ian tallied up the worth of the chests and saw that there would be enough to rebuild his fortune entire, and he feared it all a trick. But when he and Dominic closed the chests and wished them gone to their small cottage, there was a whipcrack of sound and the chests disappeared before their eyes. Only time would tell if the monster had kept his word, but Dominic was ready to believe it was so.

"And now you must go, Father," he said. "My brothers will be glad to see you back again, for there is much to be done with the riches you have gained."

"How can I leave you here?" Ian cried. "I feel as though I am leaving you to your death, and I am wretched with guilt."

"Indeed no!" Dominic said brightly, and smiled. "I shall do very well here. There is a wide garden for me to tend and wander in, and I am sure there must be a library in such a fine house as this. And mayhap I will be able to see you again one day, if the monster proves amiable enough. All will be well, Father, I promise."

So saying, he embraced his father and said his goodbyes, keeping a smile on his face until Ian's tearstained visage was outside the walls. Then he turned and looked at the house, trying to convince himself that all would be as he said.

* * *

That first afternoon Dominic passed quietly enough in the garden, wandering through it to see all the plants that ran wild. There would be plenty of work to do here before the cold weather set in, and the prospect set his mind somewhat at ease. When it began to grow dark he returned to the house, following the hallway to the drawing room which was well lit and warm. His dinner was waiting in the manner his father had described, and he sat down and began to eat with good appetite. Halfway through the meal, the monster appeared, moving soundlessly and fluidly into the room.

"Good evening, Dominic," the monster said. "Are you enjoying your dinner?"

"Good evening, Beast," Dominic replied. "Dinner is wonderful, thank you." And yet he had no taste for more; the stench of the monster's wrappings and the chill metal stare from its mask was off-putting, and he pushed away his plate in dismay.

The monster sat on the hearthstone and looked at him in silence for some time. Dominic endured the gaze for as long as he could, then begged leave to go to bed.

"Answer me one question before you go," the monster said.

"What question is that?" Dominic asked, quivering.

"Would you stay here forever of your own free will, and share your life with me in this castle?"

Dominic hid his fear and repulsion as best he could. "I am sorry, Beast," he said, "but I would not."

"As you wish," the monster replied with a sigh. "Go out into the hallway. Your bedroom is at the top of the stairs. Sleep well, Dominic."

"Good night, Beast," he said, and fled.

The following days dawned bright and clear, good weather for gardening. Dominic went out into the grounds and began the task of ordering the beds, trimming overgrown branches and shaping shrubs into obedience. He hummed and sang as he worked, digging his fingers into the rich soil and encouraging things to grow. He felt himself observed from time to time but he never faltered in movement or voice, reasoning that the monster wished him no harm.

The two of them began to converse in the evenings, slowly at first and then with more breadth, depth and warmth as they each learned that the other's intelligence and taste matched their own. Dominic was surprised to discover in the monster a friend, one who listened when he spoke his thoughts and responded in like kind. He felt entirely comfortable around the monster, save in one thing only. Every night before he went to bed, the monster would lay a hand on his arm and ask a single question.

"Dominic, would you stay here forever of your own free will, and share your life with me in this castle?"

Every night Dominic would shake his head and reply, "No, Beast. I am sorry." For as pleasant as he found his new life to be and as much as he came to esteem and care for the monster, he could not forget the agony his father must be feeling nor the pain of their separation. He could not give up hope that one day he would see his family again. And yet as time went by he was unable to imagine living anywhere else, so accustomed was he to spending his days reading or gardening or talking with the monster, who was by now no monster at all but his best and dearest friend. The thought of leaving here seared his heart, just as the thought of never seeing his beloved father rent him in two. It was an impasse he did not know how to resolve, and that he could not talk to the monster about it for fear of rousing his wrath made it doubly hard to bear.

So things went on for five months until finally his task was done and the castle grounds were as stunning as they had ever been. Dominic surveyed his work with a satisfied eye, wishing in his heart that Ian could be there to share in his joy. The monster's praise was lavish when they met that evening as if he wished to make up for the lack of fatherly praise.

"I have never seen the gardens in such a fine state," it complimented him. "You have wrought a miracle, Dominic, and I thank you. It is a pleasure to look out my window and see the beauty there."

"You are most welcome," Dominic said honestly. "I am pleased that you find it to your liking, for it is at least half for your pleasure that I have done it." But he fell silent after this, wishing to see his father more than ever. The monster noticed his change of mood.

"You are very quiet of late, and particularly tonight. Are you ill?"

The gentleness in the monster's voice brought Dominic to the verge of tears. He bent his head to hide his face. A moment later there was a soft touch under his chin, raising his face again. He looked askance at the hand of the monster, which was no clawed and rotting horror but a perfectly ordinary human hand, if shod in a tattered leather glove.

"If you are troubled, Dominic, I wish you would speak to me. I would like to help you if I can."

"I-I cannot," Dominic said. "I don't want to make you angry, and I fear my worries would do so."

"Anger me?" The monster sounded surprised. "How could you possibly anger me, my friend? You have brought nothing but joy and warmth to my life since you came here. I cannot imagine being angry with you. Come, there is no need to fear. Tell me what is bothering you. I promise not to be angry no matter what it is."

"Beast, I—" Dominic hesitated, then looked into the metal mask on the monster's face. "I would like to leave."

There was a harsh silence; the monster drew breath in the midst of it. Dominic watched the gloved hand clench upon the fur-clad knee.

"Leave?" the monster asked quietly, dangerously. "You cannot leave. You are bound to stay here for as long as your father lives, on pain of his death. Had you forgotten?"

"No, and that is why I wish to go!" Dominic burst out. "Beast, I am content here with you, but I miss my father so very much. I would like to see him just once more, to reassure myself that he is well and to let him know I am the same."

He subsided and folded himself up in his chair, hugging his knees for comfort as he waited for the monster's wrath to fall on him. Yet again the monster startled him, however, for nothing happened but a drawn-out silence that made him sneak a glance at his companion's metal face.

"I will think on what you have said," the monster declared. "I do not wish to let you go, Dominic, but I can see that you are in pain and I would spare you that if I can. I will give you my answer tomorrow night."

"Thank you, Beast," Dominic said, feeling lightheaded with relief. He stood up and made for the door, but was halted by the monster's hand on his arm.

"Dominic, would you stay here forever of your own free will, and share your life with me in this castle?"

This time, when he heard the question, Dominic had a different answer.

"Beast, if I may see my family once more, only to know that they are as content as I – then yes, I will stay here with you forever. It is all I lack to be totally happy."

So saying, he squeezed the monster's hand in his own and walked out of the room, feeling the familiar stare at his back all the while.

* * *

The next day was rainy and chill, a foreboding of winter. Dominic stayed indoors and watched the water sluice down the windowpanes. For the first time he could remember in months, he was bored. The library held no attractions and he did not wish to go outside in the wet; what else could he find to amuse him?

He decided to wander through the castle proper. Having spent so much time out of doors he was unfamiliar with most of the rooms inside, so the exercise promised at least a few hours' distraction until evening. Dominic began on the ground floor where he was most comfortable and made his way upward as the day wore on.

The castle was richly appointed, though most of the rooms were shut up and cold with disuse. There was no dust or dirt to be seen anywhere, obviously magic of some description since Dominic had never seen anyone other than the monster on the grounds. For a while as he moved through the castle he pondered the monster's situation, wondering what brought him here and what kept him here. It was one of few subjects they had not touched on in their discussions, for the monster generally encouraged Dominic to talk about himself and the outside world. For all the time they had spent together and all the things he knew, Dominic realised that the monster was still largely a figure of mystery to him. He knew nothing of its – his – origins or life before Dominic came to the castle, nor what he looked like under his wrappings, nor even how the monster spent his days. This contemplation of all there was still to learn about his friend was an agreeable way for his mind to occupy itself as he explored.

On the third floor Dominic came across a chamber with a locked door, the first he had encountered thus far. He thought that this must surely be the monster's chamber and was about to pass it by when he heard a sound from inside. It was a muffled thump and a groan of pain or anguish, he could not tell which. The voice was that of his monster, however, and so Dominic put his hand to the door and knocked.

"Beast?" he called. "Are you all right?"

"Go away!" the monster shouted. "Go away, Dominic, and leave me be."

"No," Dominic replied. "How can I go off and leave my friend in pain? Let me inside and I will help you."

The monster laughed, a shrill mad-sounding laugh that made Dominic's hair stand on end. It did not frighten him however, and he knocked on the door again.

"I won't leave, you know," he said calmly. "I'll stay right here until you let me in. It's raining and I have nothing better to do."

There was a short silence and then the sound of bolts being drawn on the other side of the wood. The monster did not speak but moved away again, and Dominic waited until all was quiet before opening the door.

The chamber was stark and bare, with only a bed and wash-stand and a rug on the stone floor. The monster sat with his face turned away, facing the wall.

"Are you satisfied?" he demanded. "I am well. Do not trouble yourself over me."

Dominic paid no mind to this but walked over and laid a hand on the monster's shoulder. The muscles beneath his hand tensed, a fine tremor running beneath. He spread his fingers to give warmth. Only then did he notice that the metal mask was laid aside on a table.

"You are in pain," Dominic said softly. "Will you not let me help you?" He pressed gently on the monster's shoulder, trying to turn him around, curious to see.

"Get out!" The monster surged to his feet and turned to snarl, his face half-dimmed by the lack of sunlight but nonetheless visible. Dominic started back, his own face a mask of shock as his eyes took in the devastation before him. Thick twisted scars running every which way across pale skin, angry red burns and dead white patches covered the monster's visage from forehead to chin. Not a bare inch of skin escaped the horrible disfigurement; and out of all a pair of green eyes spat sparks of rage.

"Beast..." Dominic breathed, and flinched when the other laughed.

"Yes, indeed. Am I not an entirely suitable beast? Am I not the very picture of horror and disgust? I can see it in your face now, Dominic, even as you seek to hide it from me."

"Who did this to you?" Dominic asked. He could feel anger building already at the thought of someone hurting his friend.

The monster – no monster after all, but a man – stepped back and into the shadow of a corner, taking up his mask again.

"It matters not who or how or when," he said. "Only that it was done for good reason, and cannot be undone, save for—"

He stopped and turned away again, replacing the mask. Dominic moved to stand before him and put a restraining hand on his.

"Save for what?"

"It matters not," the man repeated. "Now will you go and leave me be? Go to your father, if you will. I do not wish to keep you from him if it causes you pain." His voice was despairing and his shoulders dropped as he spoke.

Dominic held his breath to stop the cry of joy from escaping. To see his father and brothers again—! To know that they were well and happy, and that they knew the same of him: this was all he wanted, all that he required to be able to return here and stay with this man, his friend, for the rest of his life.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Oh, my friend – thank you!" He reached before the other could flinch back, and pulled him into a close embrace. "I will stay only a short while," he promised. "Only long enough to see that they are well. Then I will return, I swear."

The nameless man stood stiffly in the embrace for a long moment, softening by degrees until Dominic felt him relax. He tightened his arms and rested his head on the man's shoulder, savouring the closeness.

"You are – not afraid of me?" the man asked hesitantly.

"Afraid?" Dominic pulled back. "I have never been afraid. Or at least, not since the very beginning. I know you too well for that, Beast." He winced and shook his head. "That won't do. Do you not have a proper name, something that suits?"

"Once, long ago..." the man replied, his voice sounding dazed. "It is hard to remember, but I will try." He stood as if entranced in Dominic's arms, staring into his face. Dominic reached up and removed the mask, tossing it aside once more.

"There's no need for that," he said. "Don't hide from me anymore."

His friend smiled, though it obviously hurt to do so. "That I will not," he agreed. "Now go and pack for your journey. I will not keep you from your father any longer."

Dominic stayed a moment longer, then reluctantly stepped away. He lingered in the doorway, his eyes returning fascinated to the ruined face, seeking the true character of the man beneath.

"You will not be lonely here without me?" he asked.

"I will be desolate here without you," the other replied calmly. "But as long as you return soon, I can bear it."

"My dear friend—" Dominic began, but was stopped by the other's upraised hand.

"If you do not go now, Dominic, I will not be able to let you go at all." The green eyes were fixed on him with familiar intensity. "Now please – gather your things and meet me in the drawing room."

Speechless, fighting a half-dozen impulses to go, to stay, to dance for joy and weep in frustration, Dominic went.

* * *

"Your name," Dominic insisted when they met again. "What is it?"

"I cannot remember," said the other. "I have been simply 'Beast' for so long that any other name seems strange to me."

"Then I will have to christen you anew," Dominic said, and looked him over. The man was of a height with him, fair of hair and slight, yet quick of hand and possessed of a neat grace. Dominic wondered that he could ever have thought him a monster, and was ashamed.

"William," he said at last. "I shall call you William."

"William. William. –Yes, it will suit," and the newly dubbed William smiled with his eyes. "Now you must go quickly, and the sooner you shall come back again."

He would return Dominic to his family by magic, he said, the same as he had vanished the two chests given to Ian so long before. He gave to Dominic a silver bell, which he was to lay on his night-table and ring three times the night before he wished to return. Then there was naught to do but say farewell.

"I will not stay long," Dominic promised again. "Only a few weeks. No more than six."

"Four," William countered.

"Five," Dominic offered, "and when I return I will stay here with you forever," and they settled on that. Still it was hard to part from one another, and Dominic felt a wrench behind his ribs as he closed his eyes and felt the magic hurl him away, even as he rejoiced to be near his family once again.

They welcomed him back as he had expected, to a new yet still modest house in the city; his brothers seeming displeased but not overly concerned, and his father wild with happiness to see him so well. Dominic for his part was glad to see his father restored to wealth and bounty, for being poor had ill suited him. His brothers seemed never to change at all, and as long as they were content Dominic was also.

Ian pressed him for details of his life as they sat down to the evening meal. Dominic willingly told all, save for the discovery of William's disfigurement and the exact depth of their feelings. These were things he must think about and discuss only with William. But he was well able to convince his father of his contentment – well enough to make his brothers pout in envy to hear of his fine castle with its beautiful grounds and enough riches and amusements to make his days surpassing fine. They remained unmarried, having found no maidens rich or worthy or beautiful enough to wed, and were if anything more discontent than ever before. But Dominic and Ian had little mind for them, being absorbed in each other's happiness.

Time flew past with unnerving speed, and before Dominic knew it the five weeks were over. He broke the news of his departure to his father on the last evening, his heart a heavy weight in his chest.

"Must you go so soon?" Ian cried. "We have barely seen you at all, and now you are to go away again forever! Surely you can stay another week – your friend cannot begrudge you that."

Dominic felt conflicted; he had promised William to return when the five weeks were over, yet it would be so terribly painful to tear himself away from his father whom he loved so well. He thought that William would not be so very angry if he were to stay another week; he would be with him for the rest of their lives, after all. And so he told Ian he would stay, and it was worth the guilt to see the joy in his father's face.

But soon the extra week was over and it was again time to leave, and this time his father's sad pleas could not move Dominic's heart. He was anxious to return to his home, for he had missed William horribly and could simply not bear to be apart from him any longer. He kissed his father and brothers goodbye and fixed their images in his mind to keep forever, and then rang the little silver bell on his night-table three times before he went to sleep.

* * *

The next morning when he woke he was in his own bedroom in the castle and it was full day. Dominic leaped out of bed and ran up to the third floor, eager to see William's dear face again. But the chamber where his friend slept was cold and dark and empty, and Dominic could not find him anywhere in the castle. He spent the morning searching and calling but received no response.

Finally he went into the gardens, torn between sadness and anger. Had William forsaken him over the matter of a few days' tardiness? Were all his fine feelings nothing after all? Such thoughts as these and worse tormented him as he walked through his finely tended paths and bowers, glorious now in the turn of the seasons as winter began its approach. At intervals Dominic called out William's name, hoping to find him asleep under a tree or wandering likewise on a path.

As the afternoon drew to a close he stopped, footsore and despairing. William was gone; there was no sign of him anywhere. Dominic felt alone and betrayed and very confused. What was he to do here alone? He gazed down a pathway toward a small fish pond, trying to clear his thoughts. A shadow on the ground moved slightly, a bush swaying in the breeze.

There was no breeze. Dominic looked around; the air was completely still. He looked back to the shadow and saw it move again. Curious, he stood up and went toward it. It grew larger as he drew closer, and before long he recognised the shape and was running full tilt toward the shore of the pond.

"William!" he gasped, falling to his knees. "William, it is Dominic! Wake up!"

William only groaned weakly, half-conscious, shielding his face from the glare of the sun. Dominic took his weight and moved him out of the sun, resting against a tree with William's head in his lap.

"Wake up, William," he pleaded. "I have come back to you, and we must spend our lives here together. Please wake up!"

William opened his eyes and looked up into Dominic's face. "Am I dreaming?" he whispered.

"No, beloved," Dominic replied. Tears streamed down his face. "I am here, and you must stay with me and not die, for then I would be lost."

William smiled. "I would – not leave you," he managed, and closed his eyes again. Dominic was alarmed, but then saw that he only rested to gather his strength. He stroked William's fine fair hair as he waited, gazing down into the ravaged face of his friend.

At length William opened his eyes again. "It was not a dream after all," he said. His voice was stronger. Dominic smiled shakily.

"I thought you dying when I found you," he said. "Are you ill, beloved?"

"Not anymore," William replied. "All is well now, if you can answer me one question."

"Anything," Dominic promised.

"Dominic, would you stay here forever of your own free will, and share your life with me in this castle?"

Dominic met William's eyes and looked deep inside. He saw warmth and friendship and love, and naught of pride or greed or any other thing that detracted from his feelings. He smiled, a brilliant pure smile of joy and laid his hand on William's scarred and twisted cheek.

"I do not want to be anywhere else," he said, and leaned down to kiss the seared and broken mouth.

A bright shining light filled his vision as their lips parted, blinding him for several minutes. When he blinked and could see again, he looked down into William's face and gasped in shock.

"William – your face—"

William reached a tentative hand up to his cheek and felt the smooth skin there. Fingers trembling, he traced the shape of jaw and temple, over his forehead and down his nose to rest on his soft and pliant mouth. Dominic watched in awe as tears welled and spilled over, dampening the perfect skin.

"Over," William breathed, staring up at him. "It is over – oh, Dominic, love—"

Sitting up, he reached for Dominic and drew him close, burying his face in Dominic's neck. A moment later he loosed his grip, stripped off the gloves on his hands and inspected the appendages, holding them up before his eyes as if unbelieving. Dominic watched in confusion as William began to unwind the rotting furs from his body, revealing unmarked skin and a body as unblemished as his face.

"What – William, what is the matter?" he asked. William turned to him, clad only in trews, a luminous smile on his handsome face.

"Nothing! Nothing at all," he laughed. "Dominic, my love, you have freed me from a curse I have suffered for a hundred years, and nothing shall ever be the matter again."

So saying, he swept down and captured Dominic's mouth in a deep and thorough kiss. When he was done Dominic could barely breathe, could only lie in a stupor and listen as William explained.

He had been a proud young prince, rich in charm and material possessions and proud of his place in life. He had been too proud to give way to an old woman on the road one day, meaning to ride over her on his fine destrier. She cursed him for a fool and laid upon him a terrible disfigurement, binding him to the castle and its grounds until he learned humility and cast off vanity and pride, and convinced another of his worth. Only love, she said, would break the spell entirely and restore him to what he was. And for a hundred years he had endured loneliness and horror and desolation until Ian had brought Dominic to him.

"And I will never let you go," he finished, reaching for Dominic again. Dominic went willingly into the embrace, holding tightly, feeling his heart beat quick and heavy in his chest. To have stayed so long away from his love and nearly caused his death! For that was what he had done in breaking his promise to William; the other had sickened and grown weak, and was on the verge of death when Dominic found him and broke the spell.

"We must go to my father and share our good news," he said a while later, when he was given leave to use his mouth for speech. "He will be overjoyed to see us."

William consented, eager to see the world again after a century of nothingness; and they set off that same day, though by conventional means of a horse and cart so that William could grow accustomed to his new freedom. When they arrived at their destination Ian threw his arms about them both and cried his happiness to the sky. Orlando and Elijah, however, looked upon their un-handsome brother with his adoring prince and felt themselves cheated. They each should have liked to go to the castle, they told each other, only Dominic had pushed himself forward and their father had heard no-one else's pleas. It was so unfair! They were left with nothing again, and Dominic with all.

Dominic and William had no time to spare for the pouts and complaints of his brothers; they were busy travelling the world, seeing wonders and collecting treasures to take back to their castle. They invited Ian to come and see them often, and made many friends along their ways who would make the castle sing with companionship once again. And when they were done with their travelling they returned home together, to the quiet and the calm, and discovered each other all over again.

And they lived happily ever after.


End file.
